


Things He Got Used To

by PaxieAmor



Series: Avengelock [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Again This Is Marty's Fault, AvengeLock, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:06:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxieAmor/pseuds/PaxieAmor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson had gotten used to so many things...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things He Got Used To

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone want to start giving me prompts for stories? =D Seriously, I love writing these things, but I'm running out of ideas!

During his friendship with Sherlock Holmes, there were many things that John Watson had gotten used to that no rational human being ever would. Being kidnapped into limousines, getting into fights with groups of international smugglers, having vests made out of explosives strapped to his chest, all night violin concertos, body parts in places body parts have no _right_ being in… normal people did not have to get used to these sorts of things and John found it easiest to just admit he wasn’t rational anymore.

The way John saw it he had two options; accept it or move out. Moving out wasn’t a viable option; he couldn’t afford London on an army pension and he wasn’t about to run to Harry. So… acceptance. He could learn to accept things, couldn’t he?

No. Not really.

There he was, on that building. It was the middle of the night; unlike some people he knows… knew, he can’t bear the thought of anyone watching him do this. It won’t take much, just a simple step forward and it’ll all be over. The pain, the loneliness, the sheer _heartache_ … things he couldn’t accept. Things he wouldn’t have to accept in a moment.

“Doctor Watson.” Somehow, he managed to stumble backwards rather than forwards and did not die like he had been planning too. He managed to keep himself upright as he turned around; standing behind him was a tall dark man.

Dark was the best, if not _only_ , way to describe him; dark skin, dark clothes, dark demeanor… even the eye patch he wore over his left eye was dark. Just looking at him sent shivers through John’s body. He had an air of power about him, one that hung over John like London fog. Not even Moriarty had this effect on John. Not even the man who strapped a _bomb_ to his chest scared John Watson as much as the dark man before him.

“My name is Nick Fury,” the man continued. Even his _voice_ was dark. “I hate to interrupt your attempted suicide, but I need you to come with me.”

Normal people would ask why. Normal people would have said fuck off and walked away. John Watson—who had been experimented on by his best friend, who had shot a man who was trying to talk said best friend into taking a pill that might have killed him, who had jumped on the back of a well-known assassin to save his best friend’s life, who had done so many stupid things that no one would ever even _consider_ just for the sake of his best friend—had stopped being normal a long time ago.

“Sure, whatever.”


End file.
